Ben Bova - Able One

Harry realized that Angie and Wally hadn’t heard about the North Korean interceptors. Good. They’ve got enough to worry about just keeping their minds on business.

He asked into his lip mike, “You guys ready back there? Everything up and running?”

Reyes’ voice took on a more formal tone. “All systems are go, el jefe.”

“Any problems? Any anomalies?”

“Pressures in the green. Pumps functional. Feed lines purged and clean. We’re ready to rumble, boss.”

“Good,” said Harry. “Looks like the rumble’s about to start.”

“With all due respect, sir, I should be downstairs with the situation team,” General Scheib said. The Secretary of Defense nodded once. With a glance at the Secretary of State, sitting to one side of his wide, gleaming desk, he replied, “We need your honest assessment of the situation.”

“And yours,” State said, pointing a manicured finger at Michael Jamil, her face a mask of ice.

Scheib was on his feet in front of the desk, his uniform immaculate, his chiseled face clearly showing his displeasure. Jamil stood beside him, Zuri Coggins slightly behind the two men.

“Honest assessment?” the general echoed. “The Koreans are about to launch their two remaining missiles. Our antimissiles systems are on alert. The airborne laser plane is approaching the North Korean coast.”

“Are those missiles aimed at San Francisco?”

“No,” said Scheib.

“Yes,” said Jamil.

With an angry glance at Jamil, General Scheib insisted, “They don’t have the range or accuracy to reach San Francisco.”

“They do if they’ve been upgraded by the Chinese,” Jamil retorted.

“You’re not still accusing the Chinese of this?” the Secretary of State said.

“It’s the only scenario that makes sense,” Jamil explained. “The DPRK wouldn’t dare start this unless they knew the Chinese were backing them up.”

“But I’ve had assurances…” State’s voice dwindled away as she realized that she had nothing but the unsupported word of an informal back-channel contact.

Jamil took half a step toward her and said earnestly, “Madam Secretary, we know that the North Koreans launched the bomb that knocked out our satellites. That took more thrust and accuracy than their Taepodong-2 missile has. It had to be upgraded. And where’d they get a nuclear warhead? Their own nuclear program isn’t that advanced.”

Defense was frowning. State looked distracted, as if she was trying to absorb this information and match it with what she’d thought she’d known earlier.

Jamil went on, “Pyongyang wants—needs!— reunification with South Korea. China wants Taiwan. They both want us out of Asia.”

Defense put up a beefy hand. “Wait a minute. How does bombing San Francisco and killing the President get them any of those things?”

“Are we willing to have a nuclear war with China?” Jamil demanded. “Are we willing to see half our cities destroyed, maybe more? A hundred million casualties? Over Taiwan and the reunification of North and South Korea?”

“If they kill the President—”

“Even then, sir. The Chinese are betting that we’ll back down. And if we don’t, if we launch our missiles at China, they’re betting they can absorb our attack and come out the winner.”

The Secretary of State heard Quang’s warning in her mind, You must realize that there are factions within our council. We have our own hard-liners, you must understand.

“But we wouldn’t attack China,” State said, as if trying to convince herself. “We’d attack North Korea.”

“And China would retaliate. They’d have to. They couldn’t sit back while we destroyed an ally that’s right on their border.”

“Chongjin,” Defense murmured.

State turned toward him with a questioning look.

“The Korean War. China came in when our troops approached the Yalu River, the border between Korea and China.” Defense looked suddenly old and frightened, his liver-spotted face gray.

Coggins stepped up beside Jamil. “For what it’s worth, I think this scenario makes sense.”

“And the President’s been apprised of all this?” State asked.

Coggins replied, “I’ve spoken to my boss, the National Security Advisor, personally. He’s contacted the President’s chief of staff out in San Francisco.”

Impatiently, General Scheib said, “Whatever scenario you want to believe, we’ve got the airborne laser approaching the North Korean coast and the gooks about to launch their missiles. I ought to be down in the situation room.”

“Yes, you should,” Defense said. With a wave of one hand he commanded, “Get down to your post. I only hope to God Almighty your people can shoot those damned missiles out of the sky.”

Zuri Coggins realized that General Scheib was terribly tense. Despite the cool appearance he was trying to project, she could see that the general was boiling inside. As the elevator stopped at every floor and people got on and off, Scheib nervously jabbed repeatedly at the button for the basement level even before the elevator doors could close. “Come on, come on,” he kept muttering. Jamil, standing beside her in the back of the elevator cab, half-whispered, “Thanks for backing me up in there.”

He looked weary, spent, close to exhaustion.

“I think you’ve got it right,” she told the analyst, also speaking in a near whisper.

“I thought she called me up there to fry my butt,” Jamil confessed.

Coggins said, “Speak truth to power.”

“And get your head chopped off.”

She nearly laughed. “This isn’t Iran, Mr. Jamil. We don’t hack people’s heads off.”

His eyes narrowed. “You assume I’m a Muslim, don’t you?” Before she could answer, Jamil stated, “My family’s been Christian since the Middle Ages. That’s one of the reasons my father left Lebanon.”

“I see,” said Coggins. She debated telling him, then decided it would do no harm. “I am a Muslim, you know. My grandfather was a Baptist, but he converted to the Nation of Islam when a prizefighter named Cassius Clay converted and took the name Muhammad Ali.”

She thought that if the situation weren’t so desperately deadly the stunned look on Jamil’s face would have been hilarious.

The Secretary of Defense leaned back in his plush swivel chair and eyed the Secretary of State closely. She seemed lost in thought, sitting in the big leather armchair, her eyes turned toward the windows but obviously seeing something other than the view out there.

He lied to me, State was thinking. Quang told me China had no intention of attacking the United States, but if what this analyst says is true, then China’s actually behind the North Korean attack. Quang lied. After all these years, he lied to me. How long have the Chinese been preparing for this moment?

“Well?” Defense rumbled, tired of the silence. “What do you think you’ve accomplished?”

State stirred herself out of her private thoughts. She blinked once at the man behind the big ornate desk.

“Do you believe him?”

“Who? That kid?”

“He’s a first-rate analyst with the National Intelligence Council. I had my people check him out after we spoke together on the phone earlier today.”

“If he’s right, we’re in deep shit,” said Defense. “Whatever we do, we’re in for it.”

Strangely, State smiled. Defense had seen that smile before. It usually preceded a beheading.

“I read somewhere,” State said slowly, “that the Chinese symbol for crisis is a combination of two other symbols: one for danger, the other for opportunity.”